


What's the Magic Word?

by Cornell_Mercer



Category: Le Fantôme de l'Opéra | Phantom of the Opera & Related Fandoms, Phantom - Susan Kay, Phantom of the Opera (2004), Phantom of the Opera - Lloyd Webber
Genre: Angst, At least I hope it's hot, Begging, Canon Divergence, Crying, Drowning, Erik is sweet, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, First Time, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, I don't know how these tags work, Kissing, Loss of Virginity, Naked Female Clothed Male, One Shot, Oral Sex, Red Death - Freeform, Self-Loathing, Smut, Sweet/Hot, depiction of drowning, hopefully I'm doing it right, pinning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-21
Updated: 2020-11-21
Packaged: 2021-03-10 07:47:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27659716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cornell_Mercer/pseuds/Cornell_Mercer
Summary: “You belong to me…”His hissing voice still rings in Christine’s ears, as her stomach flutters and she runs her fingers across her chest where Erik unceremoniously ripped the chain and Raoul’s ring from her neck only moments ago.Did she belong to him? Christine wondered, her other hand upon forehead as she stood confused and alone at the bottom of the grand staircase; unsure if this was true.She closed her eyes and tears of shame began to form in the corners of her eyes as she recalled the sensation of his touch when he grabbed the ring. The ghost of his gloved fingers that lingered on her skin so close to her bosom had lit a fire deep within her.
Relationships: Christine Daaé & Erik | Phantom of the Opera, Christine Daaé/Erik | Phantom of the Opera
Comments: 5
Kudos: 46





	What's the Magic Word?

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fanfic, inspired by the 2004 Gerard Butler version (I know, I know... not the most popular version in this fandom), but god! Is there anything sexier than Gerard in his Red Death costume? No, the answer is no! Just no. 
> 
> This takes place right after Erik crashes the Masquerade Ball and Red Death snatches Christine's chain with Raoul's ring.
> 
> Please be nice and I'm open to all feedback, as I hope to learn and grow. I only started reading fanfic about a month ago and I hope this isn't too much like other fics out there, as are only so many ways to write "wet cunt" or "throbbing cock". 
> 
> I had fun writing it and I hope it comes across as sweet and a little sexy. Enjoy!

_“You belong to me…”_

His hissing voice still rings in Christine’s ears, as her stomach flutters and she runs her fingers across her chest where Erik unceremoniously ripped the chain and Raoul’s ring from her neck only moments ago.

Did she belong to him? Christine wondered, her other hand upon forehead as she stood confused and alone at the bottom of the grand staircase; unsure if this was true.

She closed her eyes and tears of shame began to form in the corners of her eyes as she recalled the sensation of his touch when he grabbed the ring. The ghost of his gloved fingers that lingered on her skin so close to her bosom had lit a fire deep within her. 

Christine knows she cannot have a future with Erik. He is a wanted man; a murderer. A demon? All eyes in the hall had fallen upon Christine, but no one from the orchestra or theatre dares utter a word to her after what they witnessed and they glare at her from behind the protection of their masks with a mix of anger, pity and possibly jealousy. The mix of emotions in the hall were palpable and thick. It was all Christine’s fault that the Opera Ghost has unleashed a plague upon them all; all due to his obsessive need for her. What was so special about Christine Daae? What had _she_ done to encourage his wanton love for her? All attendees of the great masquerade ball seemed to be of a single cohesive mind, as they all pondered different variations of the same thought. This was all _her_ fault.

Surrounded by the dreadful glares of party goers, however utterly alone; Christine’s body deceives her as she continues to long for the sensation of Erik’s touch in the center of her breasts again. To feel his hands on her again would be her undoing. To not feel his hands on her would drive her to madness.

Raoul had left Christine alone to bear the scornful gawking of the theatre company, and had disappeared with Madame Giry; presumably to find out all he could about the Opera Ghost. Until tonight, Raoul did not truly believe in Erik’s existence, and thought it to be one of Christine’s childish fears. Why didn’t he trust her? She had told him of Erik’s obsession with her months ago. Why did he need to see Erik with his own eyes in order to believe her? Would Raoul always think of Christine as a foolish girl, with childish fantasies?

Once more, her thoughts swirled back to the look in Erik’s searing eyes, that had unearthed a hidden urge deep within her as he descended the grand staircase. In that moment, she saw passion and rage and heat and fear, as the very sight of her took his breath away. Why was he so drawn to her? Why was she so drawn to him, and what was this force that connected them to one another? She needed to see him, to look upon him once again to decide once and for all if that fire inside her was in fact, love. With a decisive resolve, Christine removed her hand from her chest and her eyes sprung open and darted around the grand room. She moved swiftly, holding her dress up slightly at both sides to allow her to walk quicker towards the left exit towards the haunting staircase that few had travelled. The concrete staircase lead down into the bowels of the opera house and was rumoured to have trapdoors and tripwires set up along the stairs to discourage trespassers. Undeterred and with her heart pounding in her chest and throat, Christine moved swiftly down the giant concrete spiral staircase.

 _“You belong to me…”_ His dulcet voice sounded in her head once more. Christine gained momentum and an increasing sense of urgency overtook her as she glided down the stairs further and further into darkness, and possibly madness.

As she moved gracefully downward, she heard a soft thud and in an instant, the ground moved underfoot, her stomach lurched, and she fell straight down. Screaming and grasping in the darkness, she landed feet first as she breached into a pool of cold water; her momentum pushing her underwater where the cold consumed her. She instinctively swam to the surface, in shock and gasping from the chill, which sent fear to the center of her core. Heart pounding in her ears, she heard another thud come from above and she could see a faint outline of metal bars above her begin to shift as she treaded water at the top of the tunnel. A loud clunk filled the cavern and the bars slowly descended, as she began to understand the dire situation she now faced. Christine let out a death curdling scream as she frantically strained her eyes to find a possible way out. She clawed at the sides of the rocky tunnel, while the bars continue to lower closer and closer to her impending doom. Christine continued to scream with fear and rage. How could she be so stupid? The bars nearly at her face, she stopped screaming and took a deep breath as the cold and unrelenting metal pushed her shoulders beneath the surface. Anguish filled her soul as she slowly breathed out the remaining air in her lungs. Straining, aching, dying, Christine’s thoughts went to her father and she resolved herself to the knowledge that this would be how she dies. Would her father have been proud of her? An orphan girl who has never accomplished anything and has never known love; not truly. As she began to lose consciousness, and her eyes began to close for the last time, her mind registers a flash of red above her.

This must be what heaven is like. Peace descends upon Christine and her world turns black.

*********

Christine wakes slowly in a dimly lit room on a soft bed, lined with silk sheets. Her body cold, weak, and shivering but feeling an odd sensation of a single hand being warm. The warmth fills her. With blurred vision, she tries to sit up and coughs uncontrollably, throat raw, gasping for air in response to recalling the torture of her lungs being starved. With eyes wide seeking familiarity and trying to ground herself. She hears a low soft voice, as she continues to gasp and cough, trying to take in as much air as her lungs will allow.

“Christine, slow down… easy now.” Erik breathes with wide eyes on her.

She looks to her side and sees her Angel grasping her hand in both of his speaking gently to her. She can’t quite hear his words yet, but they slowly come into focus. Her heart pounds and her gasping slows; his firm hold unrelenting on her hand.

“You nearly died Christine, my love.” His words in her head are like a feather running over body; soft, smooth and tingling. Her breathing begins to return to a somewhat normal state, and he removes one of his hands from his lovingly firm hold and traces his fingertips along her hairline. Christine trembles at the delightful sensation and slowly closes her eyes, easing into his touch. Erik has removed his sword, gloves and cape from his Red Death costume, his ornate red tailcoat with exquisite gold embroidery open at the front, displaying the majesty of his red waistcoat underneath. His skeleton mask still firmly in place; eyes black and comforting as he stared at her chest rising and falling, in the reassured knowledge that she would survive the horrific ordeal of one of his many traps.

“Erik…. Where...Where are we?” Christine’s throat ached as she hoarsely tried to speak looking around the dimly lit room. It was unfamiliar to her, moderately sized, but comfortable with luxurious deep rust coloured tapestries draped along the walls. She layed upon a large and comfortable four poster bed with the softest woodland green coloured sheets she had ever felt, and a fluffy black bedspread with embroidered intricate gold roses. The two oil lanterns adorning the spaces on either side of the bed were the only sources of light. Erik had moved a chair to her bedside, elbows resting on the bed as he continued to gaze upon her face and hold her hand with his warming touch.

“You are safe here. No one will harm you.” Erik dropped his head to kiss the hand he clung to desperately. His soft lips brushing her knuckles, his tongue gently grazing back and forth, making Christine’s head spin and sending a shiver up and down her spine. The flint within her had been sparked once again. She breathed in sharply and continued to stare at his downward head on her hand. Her head was in a fog, and Erik remained unmoving with his lips pressed to her knuckles for what seemed an impossibly long time, perhaps too long. Erik, taking one final deep and long breath against her fingers, took her scent deep within his lungs, and finally lifted his head to exhale. Christine felt his slowly exhaled breath move gently across her fingers to a cool wetness that lingered from where his tongue had been.

“What happened..?” Her voice still hoarse.

“You nearly drowned Christine. Why were you on that staircase?” Erik’s eyebrows angry and furrowed, seeking an answer.

“I wanted to see you. I _needed_ to see you.”

“Ah”, he made a faint noise in the back of his throat, as if his voice hitched at the thought of Christine _needing_ anything of him. Words escaped him, as his head turned downwards towards her hand.

Christine sat up, shifted towards him while loosening her hand from his grasp and placed both palms gently on each side of his face beckoning him to raise his head to meet her gaze. His eyes burned into her, wet and filled with desire. “I needed to find out what this is between us. I can’t live a life knowing that I may have given up on something worth fighting for.”

Erik’s throat went dry. Although Erik had enjoyed many women over the years, Christine’s tiny hands on his mask was the most intimate touch he had ever sustained. He felt a tingling sensation run down his spine and into his groin, as her small fingers moved to touch the flesh on the sides of his face in front of his ears. He felt his length beginning to stiffen beneath his red wool trousers, as he strained to listen to her words. He could barely hear what she was saying, her voice sounding muffled, over the thumping in his ears.

“I can’t marry Raoul if I know in my heart that I may feel this way about another man.”

Hearing these words from Christine were the single most exquisite words spoken.

_But how can she want you? A monster? She should leave now; have a chance at a better life._

With a pained look in his eyes, Erik reached for her wrists and pulled her hands away from his face, even though he secretly wanted nothing more than to climb up onto the bed and rip her sweet and supple body to shreds in a passioned frenzy. Placing her hands down on the bed, he rose from his chair and turned away from her in a swift motion, careful to ensure Christine did not notice the growing bulge between his legs. Erik slunk towards the shadowy corner across the room to hide his shame and create a noticeable distance between them.

“Did I do something wrong?” Christine asked sweetly. Embarrassed at this rejection, her heart pounded, and she could feel a lump in her throat as tears welled up in the corners of her eyes once again.

Erik stood in darkness in the corner of the room watching her every movement in agonizing want of her.

_Look at the pain you caused her. She almost died because of you. Let her go._

Christine, still sitting up in the large bed, closed her eyes slowly trying to push back tears of humiliation, taking a moment to remember his words. With renewed confidence, she put her hand gently to her chest above her breasts and began to graze her fingertips along her skin. “I kept thinking of your touch on me. How it made me feel.” Christine leaned her head back, exposing more of her delicate neck to him.

_What is happening? What is she doing? She must be trying to trick you._

Erik’s eyes widened as he watched Christine on the bed, moving her hand across her chest slowly and sensually. It was the most erotic thing he had ever witnessed and felt his cock harden to its fullest at the sight of her caressing her silky skin.

Christine opened her eyes and lowered her head to meet Erik’s stare. Not breaking eye contact, she could see the longing staring back at her from across the room; mouth open slightly, shoulders rising and falling with each heavy breath and his fists balled up and trembling at his sides. She slowly swung her legs over the edge of the bed, her gaze never wavering from his and rose.

As she stood, Christine noticed for the first time, that she was dressed differently than before. She became keenly aware that she was naked under this thin garment she now adorned. When had she changed into this? She was dry now and wore an unfamiliar champagne coloured lowcut silk and lace nightgown, that exposed her shoulders save for two painfully thin straps. She pushed the sordid thought of how she came to be wearing this new garment from her mind and slowly walked to the corner of the room towards her Angel; hands clasped nervously in front of her belly, with the beautiful intricate lace trailing behind her.

In a failed attempt to steady his breath, Erik had removed his black silk cravat from around his throat, exposing his flesh and pulse on the side of his neck. This newly uncovered flesh did not go unnoticed by Christine and she reached her hands out and placed them gently upon the soft skin on his neck, one thumb ducking below the collar of his shift and slowly stroking his collarbone. Looking down at her between ragged breaths, Erik’s mouth dropped open. His desire bulging in his trousers, his aching need no longer a secret.

“I’d like to show you how I feel” Christine bit her lip as she stared up at him. Their bodies only inches apart now; her hands beginning to run down his chest over his tailored red waistcoat.

_This can’t be real. Perhaps it was you that nearly drowned, and this is a fever dream?_

If this was a dream, Erik hoped to never wake. Christine’s hands moved slowly down his lean and rigid frame to the top of his trousers, where his black belt remained firmly buckled. He longed to reach out and touch her; grab her; fuck her. His fear of hurting her and not being able to contain his lust choked him back, as he moaned at the tingling sensation of her small hands working to loosen his belt buckle. Erik remained frozen in disbelief as she unclasped the belt, and each subsequent movement she made fiddling with his buttons sent volts of pleasing electricity from his groin, to his head, to his toes and everywhere in between.

_God give me strength. Do not hurt her._

At long last, Christine was able to open the top of his trousers; his cock pulsing at the ache and anticipation of her soft touch.

“Please let me show you”, she breathed.

Christine took a deep breath to steady her racing thoughts and in one fluid movement, reached inside his trousers unabashedly freeing his throbbing pink cock from its wool confines. Looking down in amazement of the desire she was able to invoke within him, she clasped around his rigid length, running her fist up and down the soft supple skin; once, twice. The sheer size of it was an obscene spectacle to behold. Christine was enthralled; eyes wide. Erik allowed his head to fall backwards in blissful anticipation, thumping on the wall behind him. He closed his eyes tight to ground himself into her touch; fists remained clenched at his sides.

With his raging pink cock in both hands now, Christine began to lower herself to her knees. Feeling the shift in her movement, Erik’s head swung down to stare at her in disbelief. His hands finally unclenched and moved shakily to rest at the sides of her head; fingers entwining in the soft curls of her hair.

“I want to know what you feel like in my mouth. To taste you…” she trailed off, stroking him up and down with her fists. Christine stared up at him with wild round eyes.

“Christine… I….” his words a breathless moan.

With the gracefulness of a prima ballerina, her lips enveloped the tip of his pink cock, licking and tasting the seeping clear liquid forming on the tip of his head onto her eager tongue. She pumped her unskilled hands up and down the length of him, while sucking gently, enjoying the long and low groan in the back of Erik’s throat. Erik began to move his hips slowly, matching the rhythm of her mouth. “Fuck…Christine….I can’t…I…” he trailed off. Entranced and in utter bliss at the sensation of her mouth all around him, every nerve on edge, he began to feel a warming phrenzy building deep within his loins, his hands on her head began to tighten their grip on her soft curls. Wishing he was a smaller, less well-endowed man, he craved the sensation of his throbbing and tender cock being swallowed deep into Christine’s throat. Sensing he needed more, Christine sped up her pace, his hips crashing into her harder; his unrelenting hands buried deep in her curls, tightened further. Trying to keep up with his movements, Christine opened her mouth wider as he suddenly pushed his pulsing cock deep into the back of her throat and squeezed his strong fists as hard as he could. Christine, trying her best to stifle a scream, choked and gagged at the pain at the back of her throat and the forceful tugging of her hair. Too forceful.

Erik was startled out of his trance by the sound of his Angel being in pain. Pain he caused. He quickly pulled his hips back and withdrew his hands from her curls, lifting them just above her head shaking. “No… Christine… you have to stop. You cannot continue… please”

_You cannot love or be loved without pain._

“I’m alright. I’m fine. Just let me…” she said whimpering.

“No!”, he roared pulling Christine to her feet to face him, squeezing tightly on both arms just below her shoulders. She was within inches of his face; rage seething behind his eyes, “I will not be able to control myself. You are a devil. A temptress” he sobbed as he shook her hard once, twice. “Do you hear me?” he thundered. Erik tucked his trembling and disappointed length back into his trousers, hastily fastening some of the buttons.

Christine tried to muffle a sob, as tears formed in her eyes. “What am I doing wrong?” raising her hands to cover her mouth, while looking towards the large bed in a failed attempt to hide her tears from his intense and downward gaze.

_You see her pain? It’s your pain._

Face softening between heavy breaths, Erik loosens his grip on her arms. “Christine… I… please forgive me… I…”

In an instant, her face was upon his. She stood on the tips of her toes to reach his mouth, as she lovingly wrapped her arms around his neck and shoulders. Her mouth hot against his lips as they kissed. Her tongue pressed inside his open mouth, in search of warmth and comfort. Christine still feeling his re-sheathed cock hard against her belly, drew herself further into their kiss as his hands slowly wrapped around her lower back tightly in an embrace which he would have been happy to stay in forever. To die in. “Christine, don’t leave me”, he breathed into her.

“Please…” she murmured softly against his lips, arms wrapped around one another, pressing her hips against his upper thigh and rubbing her midsection into his still hardened cock.

“You cannot mean this…” Erik pants, head lowered, with his forehead against hers.

“I do. I’m yours. Please… you said earlier that I belong to you. Did you not mean it?” Christine backed her face away to show her pained expression. The Red Death staring back at her. “Do you not want me anymore?” Christine’s eyebrows raised above her glassy eyes.

_Take her. Fuck her!_

Erik’s wanton desire for Christine; to covet her, to feel the warmth and welcoming of her tight cunt all around his aching cock was all consuming. His eyes darkened. Lust took over. In a slow and deliberate movement, and never breaking eye contact, he removed his hands from their loving embrace at the small of her back and reached behind his neck in search of her tiny hands. Christine gave a confused look, as to why he would be removing her hands from him, but his strength and fervor could not be matched by her and she melted like liquid to his whim. He spun her around quickly, pressing her back against the wall, pinning her with his body. Her arms now unmovable above her head, Christine was defenseless against the intensity of his hands pressing hard and intwining into hers.

With her heart pounding against her chest, Christine’s head swimming with desire, she tried to comprehend what was happening. She wanted to touch Erik; hold him, but her arms were relentlessly pinned above her. She could barely move at all, and the ache between her thighs began to become unbearable. Christine wriggled under his immense weight pressing hard against her, pushing her hips into his thigh; seeking some relief. Erik leaned down to kiss her languidly; he liked to be in control. He moved her pinned hands slightly closer together above her head, freeing one of his hands. The other remained above their heads, pinning both her small wrists in place. Erik lowered his free arm and placing a gentle palm on the side of her head, leaned further into the kiss; making it deeper, more intense. Both panting, Christine leaned her head into his palm, craving his touch.

“Please…” She pleaded between winded breaths as he pulled his head away from her mouth slightly.

His eyes as wide as she has ever seen them stared back at her in incredulity at how he could have gotten so lucky. He moved his free hand down to the side of her ribcage, thumb caressing the underside of her breast, traced his palm hard down the curve of her waist and rested on her hip bone. Forehead down, he breathed heavy at the sight of her full bosom heaving beneath her nightgown; nipples firm and ready under his stare. He made a fist of the delicate silk at her hip and after a brief pause, he slowly began to gather more and more of the garment into his fist. The full-length nightgown brushed slowly and deftly over Christine’s ankles, shins, knees, thighs, rising higher and higher as his fist continued to work feverishly gathering the fabric into his closed hand. Christine’s arms began to strain under the pressure of being pinned above her, but it was miniscule in comparison to the excruciating need rising between her legs, deep within her belly. The silken fabric raised higher, up and over her sex and remained bunched within his large commanding fist; she was naked from the waist down, exposed… ready.

With unblinking speed, Erik’s fingers moved from her hip to the inner part of her bare thigh. Still pinned against the wall, she instinctively moved her legs apart slightly, allowing him better access to please her and feel his fingers within her. He groaned as he grazed his fingertips between her legs, feeling her soft moist folds; a gift of a sensation that he never thought he would be fortunate enough to receive. Tears began to well in his eyes, as Christine moaned his name, straining to move her hips closer to his touch.

Erik slowly brushed his fingers up and down along her warm dampened crease, and slipped a finger easily inside her, nestling his thumb against her budding clit. Christine responded with gasping, moaning breaths between her whispering his name over and over “Erik….Erik….Erik…” Sensing she needed more, he pushed a second finger further into her, while rubbing his thumb in circles around her clit, causing Christine to writhe against him and whimper out louder cries of desire. Erik became increasingly aware of his excruciatingly hard cock pressed firmly against her, and felt as though he might climax, simply from pressing against her, listening to the sensual noises she made, as she squirmed between the wall and his firm body.

“Christine… my love… you are everything. I would die without you”, he panted.

With one hand working his fingers still inside her, and the other pinning her wrists above their heads, Erik hungrily crashed into her mouth with his, tongue seeking desperately to taste and feel and explore her mouth. Christine leaned into the kiss with her plush, warm and hungry lips upon him, and Erik began to crave the ‘taste’ of Christine. Much to Christine’s dismay, he slowed his kiss and pulled his face back to meet her stare. His eyes dark and resolute.

She moaned in disappointment as he slowly pulled his fingers from deep within her, and her wrinkled nightgown fell to her feet; as she watched him wide-eyed as he put the two moistened fingers into his mouth, his eyes closing in bliss at the tangy-like taste of Christine. His throat let out a feral sounding moan that sent her heart fluttering.

“Mercy in heaven; I love you…” he breathed out, opening his eyes to meet her.

The taste of her was sweet and intoxicating. Erik was rabid with desire to please her, taste more, feel her. He released his tight grasp upon her wrists and in a swooping motion, leaned down and picked up her small frame stabilizing one arm under her knees and the other around her shoulders, as if to be a groom carrying his wife across the threshold. Christine nuzzled her face into the red and orange wool of his shirt and waistcoat, as he carried her towards the bed.

_Throw her on the bed. Fuck her… hard!_

At the edge of the bed, he stopped, still carrying her small form tightly against him. He paused; fighting the urge to violate and ravish her mouth, her cunt over and over again until she bled. He dropped his head, heart pounding and began to sob once more. Christine, knowing he was fighting an internal battle with his own demons raised her head to meet his trembling lips; salty and wet in a yearning kiss. As she raised her hands to wrap them around his neck, he noticed the bruises beginning to form on her wrists.

_Fucking monster!_

“You won’t hurt me. I trust you.” She gently whispered.

He leaned his lips into her mouth hard, as he choked back the last of his tears. Christine shifted her body to signal for him to put her down on the floor. He released the arm beneath her knees slowly, guiding her feet to the floor at the foot of the bed.

In a daze, he watched his beloved Christine move her hands to the tops of her thighs, bunching the silk of her nightgown in her fists. Her fingers worked slowly and deliberately as she began to raise the hem, gathering and bunching more and more of the glossy fabric in the same manner he had earlier, baring her beautiful, thin, smooth legs underneath. The nightgown glided across her upper thighs and in that moment, Erik dropped to his knees in front of her, arms wrapped around her bare legs, his face so close to her sex, he could barely breath.

“I am yours Christine. I will honour your every desire, every whim, every need you shall every have. I kneel in worship of you. Please…. say you love me and you’ll never leave.” Still clutching at her legs, Erik looked up at her, eyes wild and ravenous. “If you can’t love me, please kill me. Stab me through the heart if you will. Death would be a kinder fate as I don’t have the strength to live without you.”

_How could she love you?_

In this moment, Christine finally understood. Erik has never known love, not truly; only obsession and unadulterated lust. She was his entire world and to leave him would certainly kill him. Christine knew she wanted _him_ , desired _him_ more than any man before. She yearned to feel him inside of her, filling her. Perhaps this was love? She considered for a moment, still holding her nightgown in her fists, legs bare in front of him. If it wasn’t love, his obsession would be enough to sustain them both.

She left her unspoken words hanging in the air between them.

Christine, with the backs of her naked legs brushing against the foot of the bed, lowered herself to a sitting position on edge of the bed; gently pushing her legs apart under Erik’s embrace. Without a moment to think, his face was on her sex. He wrapped his arms around her thighs and flung one leg over his shoulder as he licked and explored the flushed creases of her slick cunt. Christine gasped and cried out in euphoric ecstasy, as she laid herself back onto the bed. Feeling Erik’s tongue lick and explore her moist and ready cunt was the most erotic act she had ever experienced. His mouth on her sent shockwaves through her body, and she arched her back as she pressed his head further into her, and she moaned in utter delight.

“Erik… please… don’t…. stop”

He gripped her tighter with both arms wrapped around her thighs and buried his face deeper into her. She groaned and sprang her hips upwards seeking more.

Still tending to the task at hand, Erik gently loosened one of his arms from his grasp and slid an index finger within her slippery folds, until it reached as far as it would go. He wriggled his finger inside of her, feeling her clench around it and move her sweet cunt further into his face. Her warmth and taste threw Erik into a frenzy as he licked up and down her moist pleats, relishing each and every sound of her moans and screams of his name while writhing under his touch.

“Erik…please… yes, just like that…” she dug her fingers hard into his top of his head. Looking down, she could see his black eyes boring into her soul, the Red Death taking note of her sin and paying special attention to circling her engorged clit with the tip of his tongue.

Christine began to feel a rush of blood to her head, as her body began to contract, building and building at her core. She felt her body begin to vibrate with electricity in the tips of her fingers, the back of her knees to the top of her head. The crescendo of the sensation envelops her core and pulses through her chest, stomach, and thighs; finally reaching her wet and ready cunt. She screams as she reaches her peak, pressing his face hard on to her sex, and squeezing his head tightly between her thighs. After several seconds and holding his head in place, Christine pants, as she feels smaller waves of energy shooting through her effervescent body; mouth open in shock at the pure delight of the sensation. As the waves slowly cease and the tension subsides, Christine allows her body to finally unwind within Erik’s tender grasp.

Erik pulled his head up from between her legs and struggled to catch his breath, while feeling an overwhelming sense of righteousness. He loosened his grip on her leg, turned his head and gently kisses the inside of the thigh still resting atop his shoulder, as he slides his fingers out of her sensitive pink cunt. She whimpered as he exited her.

“You are so beautiful Christine.” He mused, smiling coyly up at her, the warmth in his eyes a stark juxtaposition behind the Red Death mask.

The silk nightgown remained bunched up around her waist, and Erik slowly lowered her leg to the floor, as he rose and stood above her at the foot of the bed. She mewled as she gazed up at his tall, lean frame. Her eyes settled on his tented trousers; not quite buttoned up all the way and threatening to burst open at any moment at the strain of holding back his throbbing and insistent cock. Smiling, she gestured with a raised eyebrow for him to join her on the bed, as she scooched her rear backwards until her head reached the pillows.

_Fuck her now!_

He bid as his Queen commanded. Erik climbed on the bed on top of her, supporting his weight with his arms; careful not to permit his body to touch hers just yet. Christine reached her hands out to touch the flesh below his mask, her eyes urging him to press his body against hers. He moaned, and while shifting his weight to an elbow, used his finger to pull down one of the thin straps on her nightgown; then the other…. Her shoulders now bare and unencumbered gave him the resolve to move to a kneel at her feet towards the bottom of the bed. In a knowing gesture, Christine lifted her core up slightly, and Erik hurriedly yanked the nightgown off completely, tossing it on the floor. Christine now lay defenseless and naked before him. A Goddess.

Mouth open, and shoulders rising and falling between hungry aching breaths, still kneeling on the bed at her feet, Erik lifted Christine’s knees parting them just wide enough to allow him to look upon her swollen pink wetness once again. He could not look away; Christine was his muse, his life, his love.

“Erik….” Christine moaned.

“Are you certain my love?” Erik hesitated, fearful that she may change her mind.

Christine raised herself onto her elbows to further emphasis her resolve, “I have never been more certain of anything in my life.” She said darkly, staring right through him.

With one hand resting on her knee, eyes staring back at hers, matching the intensity of her gaze, Erik unbuttoned the few remaining buttons on his trousers and released his unrelenting cock into his hand. Christine’s heart pounded as she spread her legs wider, and readied herself to become one with her Angel, her Erik. The burning desire to feel him at last inside of her building within her core once again. Erik leaned over her supporting himself with one arm, with his pulsing cock in his other hand, guiding it between her moistened folds towards the welcoming entrance of her cunt. Grabbing Christine under her knee, Erik hitched one leg up around his waist, opening Christine further to accept his cock. He nestled between her legs, and supporting himself on his elbows, Erik leaned his head down to take a nipple in his mouth and flicked his tongue along its edges before giving it a final gentle suck. Christine writhed beneath him, grinding her hips into his, seeking the relief that only his cock could bring.

Erik’s eyes wild with excitement, widened as they asked the question without a word. Christine nodded “Yes. Please. Yes” she whispered breathlessly. His eyes narrowed and became reassuring.

The torture of his cock perched at her hot and wanton entrance was no longer endurable. Erik began to push his length inside of her eager cunt at a languid and unbearably slow pace. Christine cried out as she felt his smooth cock slowly filling her, making her whole, making her his. The inside walls of her cunt relaxed in a final fulfillment of the silent and unspoken desire she had always felt for him. He groaned and pushed deeper into her, with his cock stirring what felt like a million nerves inside of her head, her legs, her core. She clenched her fists, bunching the sheets and lifted her hips to meet his as he pulled out and pushed back in with each excruciatingly slow thrust.

“Please tell me if I’m hurting you.” His expression pained.

“I will” Christine nodded.

Erik’s eyes, now red and swollen once again, raging with lust, searched Christine’s pained and passionate expression. Unsure if this was a dream, he examined every changing look on her glowing face, listened to every gasp, moan and sigh; committing every detail of this moment to memory, as he slid in and out of her deliberately and slowly, savouring each sensation.

“Christine, my Angel. I love you.” He whispered against her lips, his palms resting gently on the sides of her head. “You belong to me now.”

Erik, still fully clothed in his elaborate and elegant Red Death attire, other than several buttons on his trousers gazed upon the Angel beneath him, naked and prone. She slid her arms between his waistcoat and embroidered tailcoat wrapping them tightly around his back, fingernails digging into the layers of the wool fabric, and falling deeper into their combined rhythm; her leg still raised up by his hip; the other entwining behind his knee. Deep within his core, Erik began to feel a throbbing and contracting sensation at the base of his cock. With each push and pull in and out of Christine’s tight wet cunt, the aching for release intensified. His rhythm deepens as he grunts into her shoulder and he feels the beginnings of a volcanic eruption bubbling within his core. “Please… I … please…. Can’t stop…” Erik mumbles between gasps, as Christine holds him tighter against her. He bites down on the soft flesh between Christine’s neck and shoulder, and as she cries out in pain he shudders and spurts inside of her, filling her with his seed and screams her name.

Still nuzzled between Christine’s soft and warm thighs, Erik’s rigid body finally relaxes. His spent cock still buried deep within her, and he marveled at the magnificent creature below him. Head still swimming in euphoric bliss, Erik takes Christine’s head in his hands and kisses her sweetly and tenderly on her soft lips; moving his kisses over her cheeks, chin, nose, eyes and forehead, as he worships his Angel that has beholden him the greatest gift he could ever receive. His eyes wet with a happiness and joy his heart has never known the likes of before.

“Please stay with me. Be my wife. I love you Christine.” He says searching her face for an answer.

Christine moans and her body relaxes as she turns her head in a tired and sleepy motion. Erik straining to hold onto the closeness they share in this act of love, this bond, finally relents and slides his listless cock out of her. Once he has tucked himself back into his trousers, he buttons them up quickly and reaches for the ornate bedspread to cover Christine’s nakedness, though it pains him to cover any part of her delicate body. She rolls onto her side, back facing him, making a sleepy sighing noise. He nuzzles in behind her, arm draped over her waist, his face buried amongst her curls; listening to her soft breathing, as he slowly drifts off to sleep wondering if every night will bring this much contentment.

**********

Erik is startled awake the next morning, a painful sinking feeling in his soul.

Christine is nowhere to be found.

_She could never love you._

End

**Author's Note:**

> Title is in reference to how much these two say “Please” to each other. They’re so polite, am I right?!?


End file.
